The earl agreed and the paper was loaded into both the Rosemont carriage and a hackney, leaving just enough room for two to three people in each. Callum travelled with Emily and her father while Anthony and Brody took the hackney.
“I need to return home once we’ve dropped off the paper,” Rosemont said. “Friends will be calling to offer condolences on Lady Seaton’s death. I’d rather not leave your mother alone with it, Emily.”
“Of course. I understand.” She clasped her hands together and worried her lip between her teeth before asking, “Will you permit me to stay at Hudson & Co? My friend, Harriet, the Duchess of Corwin, will be there too, so I shan’t be without a chaperone.”
Rosemont’s expression turned slightly more serious. He seemed to consider, and eventually nodded. “Provided you’re home no later than ten. I’ll send the carriage to pick you up.”
“Thank you, Papa.”
They arrived moments later and Callum alit first so he could help Emily down. He then held the door for her father. Anthony and Brody, who’d arrived a moment before, helped carry the paper around to the back of the print shop.
“I’ll wish you luck,” Rosemont said. He extended his hand to Callum, who instantly shook it. “Once this is over, I trust we’ll get on with planning your wedding.”
“I look forward to it,” Callum told him.
Rosemont added a nod, reminded his daughter that he expected her home in four hours, and departed. A light and giddy sort of sensation spiraled through Callum’s chest. He glanced at Emily, whose eyes brimmed with a mixture of uncertainty and excitement.
“I hope this works,” she said.
“It will,” he assured her. It did not escape his notice that they were the only two people who stood on the pavement. Everyone else had already vanished inside Hudson & Co. Callum reached for Emily’s hand. This was as good a place as any for what he’d been waiting for most of the day. “There’s something I wish to say before we go inside. When I proposed, I did so on a whim, without having an actual plan. It was a spur of the moment decision, and because of this, I wasn’t as prepared as I ought to have been.”
“Callum, if you have regrets, I completely understand. It was a game of pretend that got out of hand, so if you’d like to break off the engagement, I’m sure we can find a way.” She produced a sad sort of chuckle. “I mean, if we can getThe Mayfair Chronicleto change their paper’s content at the last minute, anything is possible. Right?”
He stared at her, feeling a bit like she’d just grabbed his heart and yanked it sideways. “Is that what you want?”
“Of course not, Callum. I love you more than I thought I could ever love anyone. That’s why this mess I’ve gotten us into is so incredibly hard for me to deal with.”
“I forgive you for it. I do not blame you, so please stop blaming yourself. Can you do that?”
“I’ll try, but it may take a while. I still feel awful.”
“As do I,” he confessed. “But I love you too and I don’t want to end our engagement either. In fact, I’d like to make it official by giving you this.”
He reached inside his jacket pocket and produced the ring he’d selected earlier. Gently holding her hand, he slipped it onto her finger.
“Oh...” she breathed. “It’s absolutely stunning.”
“Peter helped me select it.” He admired the perfection with which it fit her finger. “Honestly, I had considered selling it and the rest of the jewels I’ve inherited from my grandmother. They would have solved my financial woes. Without an immediate plan to marry, I didn’t think I’d be needing the jewelry any time soon. But now that you are to be my wife, the Duchess of Stratton, they shall be yours.”
“Callum…”
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her fiercely before setting her back on her feet.
“I don’t know what your father was thinking to leave you here in my care.”
She grinned. “I’m sure he believes you’re aware of the risk you’ll be taking if you attempt something truly improper. His dueling pistols are his most prized possessions.”
“You don’t say,” Callum muttered while taking a large theatrical step backward. “Best keep my distance then. Shall we?”
The warmth of her laughter as she preceded him inside the printers settled his nerves and assured him all would be well. The damning review would be replaced while he, the luckiest man in the world, would soon become Emily Brooke’s husband.
Life was beginning to look a bit brighter.
18
It was not yet seven o’clock when Emily rose the next morning. She’d not slept a wink. Instead, she’d spent the entire night reading the rest of the book Callum, Westcliffe, and Corwin had written. It was, she decided, an absolute treat.
Instead of heading to breakfast, she hurried downstairs to the kitchen.
